


Bibliophile

by Lilliana



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Doppelganger, F/F, Harry Potter - Freeform, Loki - Freeform, flabbergasted, sausage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilliana/pseuds/Lilliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few days of the life of a bookseller and an event that may change her life...</p>
<p>Work for a writing challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bibliophile

You know, in the times of internet and social media platforms, everybody has as secret identity - just like super heroes do. A part of their personality, of their life even, that they keep to themselves. Sometimes, they do share the secret but people these days are very careful about whom they let in on it.  
This is the story about mine:

Being a rather shy and nerdy girl all my life, nobody is really shocked when I vocalized my wish to work in a book shop for a living. Because, really, aren't books just awesome? And the people stopping by are mostly of the nicer kind. Well, as long as you don't work in a big chain or a specialized shop at least. So basically working in a room stuffed with books every day is pretty much every thing I have ever dreamed of. At least it was when I finished school...  
My bookshop is one of the old kind: A single room filled with book piles that reach up to the ceiling. Since this shop was founded in the early 1960ies there is never enough light.  
The room opens to your right when you enter the shop. In the farthest corner to your left there's my little desk. Well it's a counter but it's not really high and I use to work on it, so it's my little desk. Pretty much in the center of the most distant wall from the door there are a few very old but non-the-less comfortable armchairs, little tables lined between them. During times of internet and social media platforms nobody uses them any more, though. People aren't used to reading in book shops and they most certainly do not have enough time to do so.  
Well, good for me though. I really can't stand it when I immerse in an adventure or discover a different world and somebody starts whispering or rustle with something. The little shop is very old and very packed with books but noises are louder here. Even a small coughing sounds like an explosion. It's the beauty of silence, I know, but sometimes it drives me mad.  
I spend my days re-arranging the books, talking to the clients - mostly elderly people who know this book store from its early years - and working on my own stuff. Or well, I rather should work on my own stuff but you know I never really could withstand the call of an interesting book. How could I? I'm working in a bookshop!  
One day, in the middle of my routine of dusting off books, shifting piles to make room for the latest editions and humming stupidly to a tune form the radio that trailed softly into the air of my little safe place - which the bookshop actually is for me - a stranger walks in.  
I mean, having costumers is the best this little place can actually have, I'm just not really used to them on this part of the day. He looks pretty nice: rather tall, like 6'4''ish, lean but yet muscular with read curls that surround his head like a helmet and stick out in all different directions.  
"Hello, may I help you?"  
"No, not exactly, I'm sorry. Just looking around." His voice is actually like his looks low, soft and yet very manly.  
"Okay, just let me know when you need something." While talking to him I went over to the counter and switched off the radio. I'm not exactly supposed to have it turned on during the business hours and though Mister Dexter, the owner of the shop, is rather sweet there are a few things he literally goes crazy about. This is one of them and I really like my job...  
In his dark and low jeans, close fitted black T-shirt and black leather jacket this stranger reminds me of someone and yet I can not really put my finger on it right now. Well, he seems to stay a while judging by the time he takes strolling about the shop. He stops every once in a while to flip a book open, sometimes he reads a few pages.  
"If you're interested in one of the books, you can sit down and read a while, if you like to." I say when he spends particularly much time with a book from our historic fiction section. He doesn't answer though the smile he sends me hits me like a low swung punch in the guts. Oh well. With the light shining right into these intensive blue and yet not so blue eyes, I finally remember. He's an exact doppelganger from my favorite actor. Well, that was unexpected. Never mind. Keep smiling Liz! I try to motivate myself to not stare at him stupidly. Back to work and hopefully he hasn't noticed my sudden transformation to a Neanderthal...  
He really took a seat in one of our older armchairs and started reading that book and looks satisfied.  
Where was I? Oh, yes, dusting off old books. I shouldn't really do this when someone's around. Piling it is then. Unfortunately, I'm done way to fast - this month's publications aren't exactly big in numbers. Summer is always a time when people rather turn to outdoor events than staying at home reading and the publishers took these into account when settling their release dates.  
So what do I do now? I could go back to my laptop but I really, really hate working when someone's around. I really do. Lucky as I tend to be from time to time, this is the moment when he decides that he's finished reading.  
"Uhm, I'll be in town for a while and have to kill a few hours every other day. Would you mind me coming back to read?" "We're not a library!" crosses my mind for a second but on the other hand - he might buy a book if I'm nice enough...  
"No, not really. Have a nice day then!"  
"Thank you. Cheers." And with that he leaves the shop. Ugh, he even has that distinct little British accent. Why didn't I notice before? This is going to be hell. Seriously.  
I can't really finish the though before our doorbell rings again.  
"Aah, Mrs. Morris. Good to see you! How can I help you today?"  
***  
A few days later and again during my "nobody's here anyway so I can clean the mess up a little bit" time, the doorbell rings. We have one of these old fashioned little bells at the door that announce anybody entering or leaving the shop. This has been rather handy at times when new books arrived and I had to go through the delivery in the back chamber of our little shop.  
The door opens an with a swift of cold air, it's October already, John enters. Yes, I called the strangely good looking and familiar seeming guy 'John' in my head. Like John Smith, you know?  
"Hello again. I promised I came back, didn't I?" he grins smugly. But behind his self-confident façade, I can see insecurity flickering for a split second. So he did notice that we're not a library. Interesting...  
"Hello there, indeed you did. May I assist you with choosing your book for today?"  
"That would be really nice. You have quite a collection here I have to admit."  
"We're an old bookshop and our collection just grew over the years. What would you like to read?"  
"That's interesting. How old exactly are you?"  
"Erm, I mean the bookshop of course" he ads a little embarrassed. I understood him even before his muttered addition and hence I can't really help but snigger at his embarrassment.  
"The bookshop was founded during the early 1960s but it isn't the owners first shop. Parts of our stock have been in his possession for more than 70 years. I take it that you rather enjoy reading older books than the latest ones, then?"  
"Oh no, not necessarily. I love old bookshops though and this one's even older than I am. They have a special atmosphere. It's a bit like coming to an old friend. Or like coming home. One feels rather secure when being in an ill-lit room with book stocks that reach up to the ceiling, don't you think so?"  
He definitely hasn't watched horror movies for a while then, I think. But I would never say something like that because the last thing I want to have now is a conversation about horror movies. I really dislike them but unfortunately my girlfriend loves them and makes me watch at least one movie a week with her. I suspect ulterior motives though. Tess just loves it when I cling to her not being able to watch the damn thing and not being able to not watch it. It's a curse!  
"Yes, it is quite pleasant to work here. At least when you like books. We don't have that many costumers and therefore all I see all day are books. But yes, I love it."  
"I see. Well, I would like to read something simple today. But nothing dumb. Nice entertaining literature. Do you have anything of this kind?"  
"Of course we do. Do you like fantasy?"  
"I do. But these days, I get a fair share of fantasy on a daily basis. I would prefer something else to read."  
"Oh so you're working for _Arisia_? Which will exclude science-fiction novels as well. Okay, let me take a look."  
"Yes, thank you. This is very kind of you."  
"Don't worry about it."  
"Bless you. I guess you have got other work to do instead of digging through piles of books for a guy who came here just to read."  
I just make a dismissive sound at that. If I had answered something this would have gone on and on I guess. And I have a book in mind which my grab his attention anyway. I just have to find it. And it has to be here, somewhere. I definitely have to ask a few more questions about his work at _Arisia_. I volunteered for the main event on the last day - which is three days ahead of now - and the more I know about the convention, the better. And this will be pure gold for my stories as well.  
Yes, I am an author. Well, I'm not published of course, but through my own little homepage I got quite an amount of fans for my works though. Of course nobody knows that I'm a twenty-something living in the Boston, Massachusetts, area and working in a book shop. No, I'm like one of these superheroes having a secret identity which makes live a lot easier, actually.  
"Here it is!" I mumble more to myself than to John while I pull an old looking, hardcover out of a pile in the far corner of the shop. _'Shadows Over Baker Street '_ it says.  
"You seemed to enjoy mystery and horror. I know it has some points of contact with the dismissed fantasy genre but it really is a good read. While having a typical _Holmesian_ setting the detective is confronted with cases that would fit into _Lovecrafts_ writing universe. It's an anthology of short stories written by contemporary and very popular authors such as _Gaiman or Ferguson_. The stories vary from ancient curses which need to be neutralized to dystopian settings. And short stories qualify for being a read over the curse of a few days. You can come back whenever you like and a new story will await you." Well that might have been to much talk. Smiling rather politely he has risen his hand to a defensive gesture, palms outwards. He has nice hands though.  
"I'm sorry, that was a bit much, wasn't it?"  
"It's alright. You already had me at _Holmesian_ settings." he laughs, slightly embarrassed. Wow, this guy really is self-conscious, isn't he?  
Smiling politely I hand over the book and get back to work.  
It's isn't until about an hour later when I get up to make myself a cup of tea when he speaks again. His voice is even lower than usually, almost a whisper. It's like he is still somewhere in between reality and the worlds he had discovered through the book. I almost misheard him rummaging around in the little kitchenette that is connected to the back room.  
"Have you read the book?"  
"Yes, I did. Only a few stories though. I quite enjoyed _Tiger! Tiger!_ because _Irene Adler_ and _Sebastian Moran_ made an appearance. _The Case of the Antiquarian's Niece_ and Gaimans' _A Study in Emerald_ were pretty enjoyable, too."  
"I haven't read any of these, yet, but I will keep them in mind. Why haven't you read all of them?"  
"You will like them. To be honest, I'm not good with horror stories. I read them because I found the settings or characters to be interesting or because I like the author. But in general it's not my cup of tea. My girlfriend read the whole volume though and really loved it. That's why I gave it a shot."  
Blowing at the oversized mug in my hand I head back to my desk to start writing. With John in the room I had a few good ideas for a character and a setting for one for my stories. Lost in thoughts I don't really register that he had stood up and crossed the room. But when he suddenly reaches for my mug, I jump in my seat, startled.  
"Sorry, I did not want to surprise you. But your cup was rather intriguing." John laughs. Why do I call him John anyways? I should ask him for his name.  
"Yes it is, isn't it? One of our regulars gave it to me last Christmas. She noticed that I always drink tea as soon as it gets cold outside and thought she'd do my a favor by giving me a bigger mug."  
"That was very thoughtful of her. But the design is rather unusual." My mug is decorated with a plan of the Boston subway. I like it.  
"Yes or rather no. In every touristic city of the world you can buy goods with a train map on them. London is the most famous one of this group. But I enjoy living in Boston. It's a historic place and an important point in American history. Additionally, it's one of the most beautiful cities on the east coast and one of the oldest cities in the whole of US in general. Why shouldn't I be proud to live here?"  
"It is original, indeed."  
"Yes. Mrs. Morris and me had a long conversation and a bit of a debate about the city and when she heard how much I love it, she got me that mug." Poor John looks a bit overwhelmed by my enthusiasm but I truly love being a Bostonian.  
"I'm a bit of a patriot when it comes to my city but it doesn't mean that I don't have an opinion about politics, you know?" I feel the urge to ad to my little outburst.  
"It's okay. I'm sorry that I bothered you. Thank you very much for having me, I have to leave now."  
"Goodbye." And with that he leaves the shop.  
Well, that didn't go well. I have frightened him off even before I could ask for his name. He seemed to be a nice guy. Damn it. But at least I have a bit of a story for my own work now.  
***  
Pretty early the next day a young boy enters the shop, eating a sausage. At first I was just startled because I was in the middle of the writing process but seeing him entering a bookshop with greasy food in his hands, I am back in reality extremely fast.  
"Out! How dare you entering a bookshop eating something?" I yell while shooing him out. People like this make me crazy. Have they no respect for books? But I work in the service industry, too, I shouldn't forget my manners.  
"You can come back in when you have finished your food and wiped your hands. I will be glad to assist you then." Though being nice I give him my best death glare. Disrespecting books, I really hate those people.  
The boy looks a bit frightened when he tries to apologize, bits and pieces of the sausage flying around when he attempts to speak with a full mouth. Gross.  
I turn around and ascend the three steps that lead to the door - or at least I try to do so. Instead, I run into a man's back. Hurray. This seems to become a wonderful day. God why didn't I stay in bed?  
"I'm sorry."  
"It's okay. Are you alright?" A soft voice answers. John. Well, this couldn't be more embarrassing, could it?  
"Yes, I am. Sorry for bumping into you." We finally entered the shop, he even held open the door and made sure I entered the shop before him. Little prince charming, aren't we? I can't help but being sarcastic. Sarcasm always helps getting out of awkward situations. At least it helps me because I don't have to think about what a huge dick I made of myself...  
"Don't worry about it - nobody got hurt."  
"Yes, besides my books" I manage to say through gritted teeth, suspiciously eying the door.  
"What?"  
"Nothing. Sorry. This boy just entered the shop while eating some greasy grilled dish. I tend to blow things like this out of proportion when I see my books endangered. I am sorry for confusing you. Would you like to read another book today or to continue marveling at the world of Holmes and Lovecraft?" I ask while reaching out of said book, pushing it over the counter.  
" _You sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve._ " He says, grabs the book and goes back to the chair he had occupied in the last days. Seriously, he's quoting _Harry Potter_? I am actually flabbergasted about that pop cultural quote and can't do anything else than staring at him for a few seconds. Wow, the whole situation seems so surreal I really have to use it for my story.  
I want to ask him so many questions but I don't dare so. He sits there, totally relaxed with one leg swung over the arm of the chair and seems totally lost on the story. What is he doing here at 9 a.m.? Doesn't he have anything better to do?

_...One day, a stranger in a black and green leather outfit enters the tavern. He is tall, lean and good looking but an eerie aura surrounds him so that nobody wants to be close to that person. He doesn't smile but acknowledges the host with a nod of his head before he crosses the room sitting at a table far away from the crowd in a dark corner..._

I am totally lost in thoughts when a cellphone goes off and causes me to jump in my seat.  
John sends me an apologetic looks before he answers it, leaving the shop to talk outside. At least he has some manners, I think.  
A few minutes later he re-enters the shop but instead of heading back to the place he left so suddenly, he walks straight onto my desk.  
"I am sorry for startling you. Being in a bookshop I'm not supposed to have me mobile going off I know but it was work related. You seem to be an author yourself, aren't you?"  
"Erm ... "  
"I just assumed since you were typing frantically and seemed lost in your thoughts. Are you published? I would like to read some of yours? I have great interest in young contemporary authors. I think they enrich the world with their thoughts."  
"No, I'm not published. At least not really. I publish my stories on the internet where everybody has free access to them. Many author do so, though. Most of them dream of being discovered and published but I have always written. It's a personality trait I can't live without. And I like interacting with my readers. Sure, I don't get money from it but I have my job here and I don't need to earn money by writing. It's a hobby - and a luxury because I don't have to worry about deadlines, meeting the expectations of readers and editors and first and foremost I don't need to worry about being salable."  
"You've got a point there. Personally, I dislike reading on my computer. It isn't comfortable, your eyes start hurting fast and you always need some source of power near by. But I heard about the writing communities and follow a few of them myself. If you want to support young authors, you have to do so these days."  
"Yes, I will always prefer paper copies of books and stories I like, obviously, but writing on the internet offers me so much freedom and a far broader audience than a published newcomer could dream of. My stories are read by people from all over the world. Some even practice their English while reading them. You couldn't make an author more proud than by telling them you influenced their lives, you know?"  
"Reading open the door to other worlds, adventures one could never dream of having and let experience you worlds you would have never seen otherwise."  
"True. Do you write yourself?" And with that his cellphone goes off again. Great. I haven't even asked for his name yet...  
"I am sorry, I have to leave. Thank you for the nice conversation!" He answers after a few seconds on the phone. And with that he leaves.  
I go back to my story which is at a critical turning point and thanks to his input will be finished in no time. But somehow I can't concentrate on it for the whole day.  
***  
Needless to say that he didn't return the next day. It's Saturday and the shop is only opened until noon. He hasn't even walked by. I really wanted to finish the conversation and give him one of my stories I printed out for him yesterday. This sucks.  
***  
Sunday begins sunny and rather warm for October. Today is my day at the convention. I was really looking forward to it. I just love conventions, the atmosphere is so busy and creative. People from all over the US some even from other countries gather to celebrate their interests. They can forget their everyday lives, make new friends, meet old acquaintances and simply have fun. Many of them even dress up as their favorite character or author, adapting a completely new personality for a day or two.  
I would love being a guest myself, going to different workshop and panels, taking pictures with people in great costumes or actors I admire. Unfortunately, entrance fees are crazy and a little bookseller like me can't afford it too often. And I promised Tess to go on holidays with her. She really wants to go to L.A. - for the beaches she said but we have beaches here, too. I guess it's for the sun and the celebrities she thinks she can spot there. I am not fond of high temperatures but well, what don't you do for your girlfriend, right?  
A cosplayer, dressed in leather from head to toe gets my attention. He playing _Loki_ from _The Avengers_ , an action movie that came out earlier this year. It's a good one, he really looks like the real one. Well minus the hair. It's a bit too short and too fair. But I'm not supposed to stare.  
The main event will begin shortly and I have to get to my position. It's a big multifandom panel in which a big movie company will announce their latest projects. They will show a few trailer and the audience is allowed to ask questions afterward. Some main actors will be there, too.  
My job for this event will be the door. Since it's a really big panel and important people are supposed to show up, they even went to the lengths of having a red carpet. Great, I always wanted to be on the read carpet opening the doors for oh so important people. Not. Anyway, if I do my job well this year I will be awarded with tickets next year.  
Be friendly Liz, I remind myself when the first fans arrive. It's a never ending stream of people passing me by even 30 minutes after I first opened the door. In the meantime one of my supervisors stopped by and told stay during the panel standing on the other side of the door and opening and closing it for people who wish to leave or come late. Well, why not? With this I'm informed of the latest trick of the movie industry.  
Slowly the influx of fans subsides and the super important people arrive. It leads to awkward situations when a fan arriving late suddenly ends up next to a person he or she admires. Quite entertaining for me though. I hope the press people crowding the door don't take pictures of my gloating. This could be embarrassing.  
A person waving frantically at me pulls me out of my stream of thoughts. It's John.  
"Hey how are you?"  
"Hi, I'm fine. How are you? You're really here. I didn't expect to see you. Going to the big event?"  
"Yeah well, seemed interesting. Sorry, I've got to go."  
Somebody's in a rush here. Well, whatever. The panel is about to begin and I close the doors, standing inside to room by the doors where I can see the stage not really good but I can hear everything.  
Hopefully they have some nice projects coming up. Where Tess is more of a horror movie type, I'm a sucker for action and especially superhero movies. I don't really care whether it's Marvel or DC or some independent company though...  
It's a good thing I saw John again today. Even though I haven't really counted on meeting him here since the center is huge, I brought the story with me. Hopefully he'll have a few minutes to spare after the panel so I can give it to him. Unfortunately I can't spot him in the crowd in the darkened room. I will have to wait for the end of the panel to look for him.  
Overhearing a bit of an interview I realize that the John from my bookshop wasn't really a John or a mere look-a-like but indeed the real deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Not (yet) proofread.  
> People you may recognize from real life personas and all books / fictional characters mentioned in the story do NOT belong to me. I just borrowed them for the story.  
> Neither brit nor american picked. Since I do not live neither have ever been to Boston there may be a few discrepancies...
> 
> Arisia is an existing convention in Boston, MA. I just took the freedom to re-schedule it.  
> Quote taken from http://harrypotterquotes.com/ Ginny to Harry Potter in The Order of the Phoenix


End file.
